Well, it’s me speaking, the guy that usually asks annoying questions to music addicted, trying to explore their tastes and ways of living through the records they own. As said many times, this comes from my natural (or perverted) curiosity that forces me to drive my glimpse to any shelve full of records I might see.
So it happened time ago, in June 2018, that I was walking through the streets of a nice and calm city in the north of Stockholm, called Gävle. Don’t ask me why I was there, I’m just used to travel for job reasons. By the way, I got stuck when I saw some back cover of LPs in what I guessed might be a record shop. Why the BACK? I also noticed that the LPs were pretty far from the window, barely visible. Why does a record shop should put them half-hidden? So I got a deeper look. It was a library. Not a shop. The City Public Library (Gävle Stadsbibliotek). But with VYNILS? I’ve never seen any LP in any public library: they’re fragile, delicate, expensive, precious.
So I got in. And I discovered Heaven.
Well, a heaven populated by angels like Candlemass, Replacements, Ministry, Slayer, Can, Grateful Dead and many other heavenly people.
What you see here is a series of pictures of a beautifully rich set of records, including CD boxes, at the disposal of the citizens of that city, and visitors, like me. I don’t know the person in charge of this part of the library, but I’d like to have him as the Minister of Culture in my country. In every country.
PS: My esteem for the Swedish culture even increased when, on the same day evening, I popped by chance into a documentary in TV on Lemmy of Motörhead, on the national television service, in prime time.